Apocalypse Reborn: What If: Kingslaying Event

Apocalypse Reborn: What If: Kingslaying Event

…

There are fewer things more awesome than Champion vs. Champion combat.

There’s a whole section of the online forums dedicated only to theory-crafting and developing Champions for one-on-one combat in the game. You pick a Champion, spend twenty-five turns developing them, and just throw them at each other with winner-take-all rules. Your Champion wins, you get the enemy’s territory, and if you lose, they get yours. Winner gets all the Citadels, their victory lap is beating the rest of the game in a couple of turns, and then everyone does it again.

Also max difficulty level, max events, and max enemy mob spawns, otherwise you’re being a little bitch.

Can’t defeat random barbarian armies with max stacks in turn 5?

You don’t deserve to enter the tournament arc.

Can’t handle events that halve your production for five turns?

Smells like bitch in here.

Can’t handle getting bad rolls when an event triggers?

Luck is a part of winning, and whoever tells you otherwise is a fucking liar.

Yeah, I’m of the firm opinion that Champion Vs. Champion PVP games are the only way to play.

 If you’re good, then you win. If you lose, you can bow out after losing, and get started on another game. Winning means you get to play the game with six Citadels at early game and absolutely style on all the crises, or just win whichever faction victory that you like. Not one crises can hope to beat a player who’s managed to make a perfect Champion, with six Citadels, even at the highest difficulty settings. At that point, it’s all purely for style points.

Oh, and there’s no wars, sieges, and other horrible things inflicted on the populace of the six nations that were meant to duke it out.

Five people die in conflict max, everyone else works together to take over the planet, and kill off all the oncoming monsters with massive guns.

Perfect ending.

And, surprisingly, I had a chance at making at ending possible because the Conquerors are just a bunch of absolute Giga-Chads.

…

I looked up from the letter sent by the Deliverer regarding the terms of the Kingslayer rite and looked straight at Ilych.

“Ilych, we’re going to turn you into the strongest Champion to ever exist. Pack your shit. We’re going on an expedition to train you until you’re undefeatable.” Training arc is on full blast. 80s montage music is on full blast. Time to take my army-killer and turn her into an invincible monster. What’s that? I should worry about her becoming disloyal and turning me into a paste? Sorry, but I’m focused on getting a whole Citadel and an entire, undamaged region under my control with one fight.  “Don’t worry about a thing. Just get eight hours of sleep and show up at the front of the Citadel tomorrow morning. We’re going to leave for the Rite.”

Riegert raised an eyebrow.

“The Rite is in eight months.”

Cutting it pretty close, but we all have to make do. Two turns ain’t much to power level, but I can make things happen.

“It’ll just be enough. We’re going to raid every Ancient Ruin we know of, kill massive monsters nonstop, and find all the best equipment that we can.” Ilych actually looked a bit… worried when I said that. Nah, must be a trick of the light. She’s a murder blender that has one setting: high. When I looked again, her face was as stony as ever and she gave me a nod. “I need to talk with the head of our transports. We’ll be refurbishing a container for transit and I’ve got some designs for a new version that they can make while we’re away.”

“Transports? Where exactly are you planning on taking my daughter, Jack?” Riegert raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. Everyone came for this important message. Well, everyone except Khanrow, but he was out there finding out how filled with horrible, no-good, bad shit the rest of the world was. Hopefully, he finds me something that can help fix that. “The only Ancient Ruins we know of are in the Academy lands and that’s filled with monsters.”

“Making it the perfect place to train.” From reports regarding the area, after the Academy was destroyed by the Scholars, the place became overrun with monsters. Estimates showed that our region received a few hundred monsters against the defenses we set up every season and patrols reported large groupings of monsters wandering the ruins of towns and the former arable countryside. Monster tribes from all over the continent were also heading in there, since territories were being claimed and standing armies were pushing them out of their former homes. Before this moment, it was a pain in the ass and a hazard. Now, it’s like free experience. “Rita, you’re coming, too. Hm. Morgan should come as well.”

Riegert raised an eyebrow, because that meant he’ll be in command of the main force instead of looking after the Scholar’s former holding for two turns. While it was terrible that their trail was going to go cold, it was a chance to hire a research-oriented Champion for the Scholar Citadel, and really go hard in R&D for that region.

“How many troops are you planning on bringing for this training expedition, exactly?”

Troops?

You mean people that’ll eat up EXP?

“None. Just three Champions against the hordes of monsters and the Ancient Ruins that remain in the Academy.” Ilych went stiff. Rita’s eyes went wide. Riegert almost shot up out of his chair. I heard something close to a squeal of delight from outside the door. Khalai wasn’t here, so someone else approved of my planned genocide against monsters via three highly-powerful individuals. “We have the Kingslaying Rite, people. We’re going to win it. That means risking everything right here and right now, because everything really is at risk.”

Riegert opened his mouth to argue, but closed it.

His daughter’s life is on the line… and as crazy as this was, this whole expedition was going to make her strong as hell.

After a moment, he gave a terse nod.

“Take a few healers and some people to take care of everything else. They’ll do their best if all they have to do is fight, sleep, and eat.”

Glad you see it my way, dude!

It’s time to get this Champions whipped up into shape!

…

Interlude:  Crusher

…

Haggard, ragged, and tired.

Those three words filled my mind as Jack exited his transport and raised his hand towards me in greeting.

“Hey there, Crusher!” His clothing was stitched together with patches. His hair a wild mess. Dirt was on his face and on his boots was mud and blood. A far cry from his usual disposition as a clean and well-groomed young man. Still, as he walked toward me, his usual swagger and confidence was in full display. In fact, it seemed almost enhanced. “Don’t worry. We got here a week early so that we can recuperate and be at our best for the Rite!”

“King of Wisdom, I heard of your escapades in the Academy’s former lands. It seems that the rumors were not… overblown.” There were tales aplenty of the disappearance of the King of Wisdom and the interim appointment of Riegert, one of the Champions that served the warlord who bequeathed the Citadel to Jack to. Some discontent had arisen, until a letter was supposedly read to the populace that the King of Wisdom went on a journey to ensure his people’s victory in the Kingslaying Rite. Some said that he fled, others that he was looking for a finer Champion, and more were content to heed his words. Still, rumors abounded in the former territory of the Academy itself. Of whole tribes of monsters disappearing and unearthly howling coming from the horizon. “You truly went—huh.”

I found my words stifled, as I looked upon the three Champions that accompanied him.

The first was Ilych, the Sword of Wisdom, and her blood-drinking plate was nowhere to be found. Instead she wore a ragged cloak over some pelts meant to cover her modesty. She smelled of blood and guts, was covered in grime, and looked as though she endured dozens of battles in the last day. Her hair was matted and messy at the same time, some twigs and leaves were interspersed between clumps of mud. The massive sword that she carried and put fear in the hearts of many was in use as a cane, supporting her steps, a she caught sight of a wagon… and her eyes watered.

Just what kind of training did the King of Wisdom put her through?

Meanwhile, Rita, the Undead Child of the Elm usually paired with Ilych in assignments was looking in every direction in fear and paranoia. When she caught me looking her way, she disappeared for a moment out of instinct, before sheepishly returning to my field of view. Tales abounded of her form, physical beauty held perpetually still by Undeath, especially as she dressed herself closer to the style of the Wardens than her former people. The well-fashioned armor and leather and nettings were nowhere to be found. She was clad like a tribal in the pelts of numerous enemies, and her hair was tied back in a severe ponytail that accentuated the lack of a single strand impeding her vision and hearing. She was also using her unstrung bow as a staff to help herself forward… and somehow I found my vision slipping off her no matter how hard I tried to look.

Then, there was the final of their number, which was a Champion recruited from an 

independent island off the continent’s coast which boasted of being capable of producing its own Champions.

Morgan, who yet had to gain a title, stood tall and alert and wore actual clothes unlike her fellows. They were covered in patches and hasty repairs and beneath the thick coat what she wore was a ragged shirt. The boots she wore were worn down and with soles near gone, too. However, she seemed a bit cleaner than her companions… though the training had its effect on her. The young woman looked upon me, and I felt as though I was weighed, measured, and a plan to kill me had been composed in but a second. She stood tall and walked with pride, but her caution was obvious for any to see.

None of the three had the trademark pride that most Champions had.

They looked at all in the presence as threats and had plans to kill all that could threaten them.

They were true warriors who I would hesitate to set even my daughter against.

Meanwhile, the King of Wisdom sighed and shook his head at the sight of them moving onto a wagon.

“AH, with just a few more weeks, I could’ve really made this a sure thing. With our progress, though, the Deliverer still has a solid chance at winning.” I looked his way with a raised brow. He didn’t seem to be lying. He noticed my stare and elaborated. “If your nation is on the line, anything less that absolute victory without a doubt is significant, Crusher.”

I understood, but at the same time I wished to speak to the Deliverer and somehow convince him to not as staunchly do as tradition bid.

Looking upon Ilych, after weeks of training and destroying monsters and finding ancient treasures, I was unsure if I could defeat her.

How could the Deliverer hope to defeat her after she’s had almost an entire week of rest and recuperation?

Between the three Champions that arrived as guests, I had difficulty thinking of a force that could hope to defeat all three.

Our capital was all but occupied by their mere presence.

…

The equipment we found was barely decent, and we barely found enough mobs to grind, but I was sure that we had a decent chance at winning the Rite.

90%.

You might think that’s a high chance, but anyone who’s ever dealt with RNG can tell you that percentages are bullshit.

You either get what you want, or you lose.

In other words, fifty-fifty.

Now, technically, those words can be seen through an optimistic lens. Even if it’s only a 0.01% chance of happening, the fact of the matter is that you either get what you want or you don’t, thus turning a hundredth of a percent of a chance into a coin toss.

But that’s treading into the realm of gambling and Gacha.

It’s more of a mental illness at that point, if you can actually believe in a hundredth of a percent being the same as a 50/50.

Get some help.

Anyway, with the training done, I only had to worry about Random Events that spring up when the Kingslaying Rite is active. If Ilych and the Deliverer dueled it out now, then we’ll get our ninety-percent shot at winning. However, tons of things can happen between then and now, because the devs enjoy making the best event spicy.

Someone can come in and try to assassinate a Champion and kill my Champion, thus forcing me to substitute in someone who’s not as well built. My Champion can fall ill and get into the fight with half health. Some equipment could get sabotaged and my Champion wades into battle without one of their most vital pieces of gear. That’s just the random events, too. The enemy faction can you intrigue actions against your Champion, and if you don’t protect against such thing, you’ve earned your loss/forfeit from the match.

Champion v Champion combat stresses every skill a player has in the game, which includes protecting your guys from being shanked in a dark ally before their big fight. Mono-focusing on a single Champion to win the fight isn’t enough. You’ve got to have a substitute ready to take their place, or an Intrigue Champion protecting them before the fight happens.

The Conquerors are good, honest people who I appreciate a lot. They’re honorable, they’ll maintain alliances all the way up to the end, they offer the Kingslaying Rite as an alternative to warfare. They’re good people… but I wasn’t about to give them the benefit of the doubt. Their intrigue tree might be shit, and I’m fairly sure they don’t have an intrigue Champion, but… that might just be what they want me to think/know.

So, while Ilych rests and recovers, it was time to put Rita and Morgan to work.

Is it paranoid?

Absolutely.

Do I even have a shred of reason to believe they’ll fuck me over?

No.

Will I take the chance?

Hell no.